Transformers Academy
by AsianAnimeGamer
Summary: Optimus is trying to deal with a hyper freshman, a war against a jerky older brother, a crotchety senior medic assistant, while still trying to survive his all boys academy. Guess that's typical for you. Under Transformers movie, but may or may not stay to the movie's plot. Transformers High School AU. Rated T for swearing and some minor violence later.
1. Monday

**Oh geez, this is a fic I have literally sweated and bled on, even though I just wrote one chapter. I know I'm not one someone you may think of as a Transfan, but I've decided to join the transformers fandom to keep my self busy during the summer. After seeing Transformers 4, I made a few humanized designs, and I got inspired to write this. I may or may not continue it, depending on how many people really do want it to continue and how un-lazy I am to continue doing more transformers research. No, I do not own transformers, if so, why would I be doing fanfictions? Hasbro owns the robots and the ponies. I own the human designs, save Bumblebee. His human design is created by Aeruko on Deviantart, minus the goggles I plopped on him and the change of patterns on his hoodie. That also goes to Ironhide, who was created by 90ryuya on Deviantart. **

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

Ah, the prestigious school of Transformer's Boarding Academy for Boys. A school created for high school aged boys, dedicated to building our future for tomorrow by educating their students with high quality teachers and mentors and guaranteed safe environments-

"BOOM!"

"WHEELJACK?! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST DO?!"

"UM, I DID NOT JUST BLOW AN EXTREMELY LARGE FLOUR BOMB UP!"

"WHEELJACK!"

"YIPE!"

Okay, that should be enough of the formalities.

Transformer's Boarding Academy for Boys is regarded as Cybertron County's oldest school, as many people are able to trace its history to 1800s. It was regarded as a typical boarding school with all boys.

Please take great notice of my use of 'WAS'.

Nowadays, ever since the blooming rivalry of the brothers Optimus and Megatron, the school has been split into two factions. Most normal people regard it as a school completely destroyed by the prank/brotherly war. If one person happened to be friends with a person on the opposing side, he and his friend were regarded as traitors. So in one sentence, it was chaos everyday. Stink bombs, flour bombs, paintballs, stapler attacks. They had it all in this school. It was Decepticons against Autobots, brother against brother, silver against blue-red, tacos against nachos-

(If one must know, everything one brother enjoyed, became evil in the eyes of the other brother's affiliation. In this case, while Megatron enjoyed tacos, Optimus preferred nachos.)

And in the bitter end, one brother would be humiliated and nothing, and each brother promised to himself that that brother would not be him.

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

An ordinary school day. Kids and teachers woke up, realized it was Monday and they had to go back to hell. And at that instant, everyone would start bitching about their cruel lives as students/teachers. After twelve minutes, seemingly accepting their fates, they would carry on and drag themselves to hell, only to repeat the process again next Monday.

...

...

...

Not everybody does it, keep that in mind before anyone decides to file their accusations. But one pupil was peacefully sleeping away, trying to grasp the last remains of the sleeping hours in the morning by slumbering some more in the small flat he resided in. And that pupil was Optimus. A well built 18 year old with eye burning blue hair, with the hair in the lower half of the right side of his head shaved off. Almost never seen without his unique flame print jacket, he is respectfully called 'Optimus Prime' by his comrades. Nearly everyone that has encountered him would describe him as a strong, honest, and virtuous person with well intentions.

"GET YOUR LAZY ASS UP BEFORE I KICK IT OUT OF THIS APARTMENT, YOU TWIT!"

Nearly everyone. Remember that.

Optimus gritted his teeth as he peeled his body from his bed. Megatron. His oh-so-sweet and caring sibling.

It was a mystery to most people that knew them why two brothers that hated each other so much would still live together. Physical and verbal fights would occur everyday, with at least two pieces of furniture broken. Why go through all of this? The answer laid in their limited funds. Both brothers had jobs, but even that wasn't enough to move out to their own living space.

"WELL? ARE YOU UP, ASSHAT?"

Ah, the joys of living with your brother, whom you hated with the passion of several hundred burning stars.

Optimus rubbed at his temples, regretting not winning the lottery so he didn't have to live with this son of a bitch for the umpteenth time this week. (He silently apologized to his parents, wherever and whoever they where/were.) He rubbed the leftovers of sleep out of his eyes, yawning monotonously. Climbing out of his bed, he sleepily walked to the bathroom to strip off his sleep wear, black t-shirt marked with the Autbot symbol and red boxers.

(For all you fan girls out there, if you want to know, Optimus has a MEAN six pack.)

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

In the first floor, a delicious scent wafted lazily, the smell growing stronger as one came closer to the kitchen. Inside the kitchen, you could see numerous cooking tools with bottles of many different oils and jars of both exotic and everyday spices. At the center was a tall adolescent, dressed in a white under shirt with a gray denim jacket over it. To show off his surroundings, a white apron stained with oil hugged around his front. The faded words on apron read, "MEGATRON: THE BEST DAMN COOK IN THE WORLD". Besides the description on the apron, more details could be added to describe this almost grown teen besides 'Best damn cook in the world.' For example, he is an equally well built 18 year old when compared to his brother, with a shock of silver locks. Dubbed 'Lord Megatron' by his followers, he is characterized by his obsession with getting what he wants and his brutally direct personality. He is well known for ignoring glaring flaws in his plans, they appear to help him with what he desires. His teachers say he is an intelligent student, but his vicious personality and his habit of blindly going after his goals is a terrible influence.

The aroma of meat drifted in waves as Megatron shifted the frying ground beef around on the frying pan. Despite cruelty being associated with his identity, he WAS the better cook out of the two brothers. (Megatron himself even heard Optimus admit to a comrade that this was one of the few benefits of living with him.)

He heard footsteps behind him, announcing his beloved brother had arrived. Optimus took a seat at the worn kitchen table and quickly lowered his head down to the surface, making a thump. Even though he went to an especially strict school that did _NOT_ tolerate tardiness, Optimus never did mornings terribly well. And Megatron never let him forget it.

"I see you have dragged your ass out of your bed and into the kitchen. But please, refrain from dozing off on MY kitchen table." He snidely remarked with a smirk as he poured another bottle of oil into the simmering meat. He turned to look at Optimus to make the smirk more effective.

Optimus scowled as he forced his eyes to meet with Megatron's. "Do I have to go through this again? You know I'm not one for mornings, and I was attacked by cold water in the shower." He paused at this moment to glare at Megatron, who was smugly crossing his arms across his chest. "Which I have a strong suspicion that you were the one responsible."

Megatron turned back to stove and replied in a mocking tone, "Just fulfilling my brotherly duties, Optimus."

Optimus groaned and dropped his head back on to the table. "At least tell me what you're making."

"Tacos!"

" ...Go fuck yourself."

"Gladly."

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

Somewhere on the second floor of the Academy's accommodations, Bumblebee was curled up in sleep underneath his black and yellow blanket. Well noted for being younger than most other students due to skipping a grade, and for being rather small, but his possession of a bottomless well of luck and determination more than makes up for his size.

Unfortunately, nobody is without distinguishing flaws. Hyper, teenager-y, innocent, energetic, prideful, and can be the most frustrating kid you've ever met. Included, but not limited to.

"SHIT!"

Bumblebee woke up with a jolt as the loud scream rippled through the military school's barracks. The top of his head slammed into the bunk bed above him. He winced at his now throbbing head, gently massaging at the pulsing area.

He frowned as his roommate Wasp ran around in a blur, searching frantically for who knows what. Probably one of his poison darts gone awry again. His other roommate, Cliffjumper, was looking at Wasp like he wanted to stab him with the mechanical pencil he held in his hands. Frankly, Bumblebee wouldn't mind it right now if he did.

"Ugh... I though we went over this, Wasp... No poison dart training in the fucking morning. You've already hit me five times, and Cliffjumper three times." Bumblebee griped, muffled by his pillow as he plopped back into his bed. He pulled the warm blanket over his head. Damn it, why did his bed have to be the most comfortable in the morning?

Wasp stopped in his frenzied search to glower at the short bot. "For your information, mudflap, it wasn't poison dart training, it was my weaponry homework. It's GONE!"

This got both Cliffjumper's and Bumblebee's attention.

"Weaponry homework? Don't you have Sentinel Minor?" Cliffjumper asked, trying to prevent a grin from breaking out.

Wasp groaned loudly in distress. "YES!"

Bumblebee attempted to not laugh at Wasp's misfortune, but failed. Terribly. "Dude. You are FUCKED." he guffawed.

Wasp put his head into his hands as he slumped into a chair. "I know, I know!"

Bumblebee came out of his lower bunk bed as Cliffjumper looked at Wasp leerily. "Wouldn't he let you off a bit? I mean, you are his favorite." He asked, with an eyebrow raised.

"That's the problem!" He moaned. "He's always pressuring me! I mean, being his favorite is cool and all, but he's always claiming that I will fail at life if I even miss ONE. FUCKING. CLASS. Aahhhhhh!"

Cliffjumper rolled his eyes as the ever dramatic Wasp continued his search for his homework.

"You know, there are other places to wreck besides our room. Like, weren't you hanging out Ironhide in the cafeteria? I saw you with a a green folder beside your lunch tray." Bumblebee remarked as he mussed his bright yellow hair around.

Wasp quickly stopped digging through drawers and was about to run out of the door, but was stopped by Cliffjumper.

"If you're going out, at least wear something more than your pajama pants." He looked down at Wasp's choice of sleepwear. "Nice stripes by the way."

Wasp's face flushed as he realized his apparent shirtless-ness. Hastily pulling on a dark colored shirt, he promptly darted out of the room.

Bumblebee yawned as he walked over to Cliffjumper's side to observe Wasp running down the hallways in a frenzy.

"...You never actually saw his homework in the cafeteria, right?" Cliffjumper asked, his friend beaming a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"Yup."

"Nice."

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

Enter Ratchet, the peaceful minded, socially awkward, and highly intelligent student, also school medic assistant. Distinctive by his dislike of violence, he wishes for the school to be united once more, but believes Optimus is the best chance for peace in the school. Some students claim he acts like an old man who doesn't know when to shut the mouth flap. To those people, Ratchet responds with his buzz saw (ONLY used for medical purposes, of course) and wrench in their faces.

Ratchet rubbed his eyes sluggishly as he refocused his eyes on the mauled medical tool... Or what ever it was. He glared at the mess, the entire reason for his suffering. It actually was. Someone had broke it the day before, and being the medic assistant, the task was dumped on him. And he had been up all night attempting to restore the damn thing. The many pleasures of being the youngest in the staff.

"Uh, hey there Ratchet!" A familiar sounding voice reached his ears. He turned his head to the voice, which belonged to the tiny Jazz. He nervously waved as another student, Ironhide, rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Erm, hello there, Jazz and Ironhide. I'm a bit busy right now, but what may I owe the pleasure of your visit today?" He greeted them as he wiped off some stray sweat dripping down his forehead.

Ironhide opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Jazz, who was nervously twiddling his fingers.

"Wow, you look terrible. Did you stay awake all night? Cause it looks like you did." The small student blurted, changing the subject. Ironhide nodded in agreement, possessing a shred of somewhat concern on his expression.

"Well... Yes." Ratchet admitted, before yawning. "I'm fine, really. But please, can you tell me, what is your business in the clinic?

Jazz looked around with anxiety as Ironhide scoffed. The labcoat-wearing blonde immediately understood their body language.

"Oh no... Did Ironhide injure another Decepticon?" He groaned loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Jazz looked down to his feet and nodded reluctantly while Ironhide scornfully brushed it off.

"Haven't we gone over this?" Ratchet took off his glasses to face palm himself. "I know we're practically in a war with them, but is there really a need to jump anyone whose a Decepticon?"

"Yes." Ironhide said simply, with a shadow of a smirk of his face. "I knocked him out after he called me Sir Surly and stuck his tongue at me five times in a row. The body's in Jazz's car."

"Ironhide!" Jazz turned to frown disapprovingly at the elder male. "Don't call it a body! People will get suspicious! And why did we have to use my car again?"

"Because my dad banned me from using my car for three months after I accidentally destroyed my neighbors' backyard with it. And in my defense, they had it coming." Ironhide shrugged, no remorse obvious on his face.

Ratchet slammed his forehead down on the table, causing the tools on the table to shake violently while a nasty mark on his forehead appeared as he raised himself up again to face the two males.

"I'm patch him up and and say he fell down the stairs, depending on who he is and how bad is his injuries are. Bring him to me."

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

**Okay, so in my demented mind, people can choose to stay at the school's living quarters, like Bumblebee, or they can live in their own houses, like Optimus and Megatron. I know I probably downed the aggressive factor in the Transformers' universe A LOT. But there's only so much violence you can do with high school aged kids. And it probably doesn't make much sense why Optimus and Megatron live together. But seriously, money issues. Bee hasn't lost his voice yet, but if people want this to continue, I'll write the scene later in the fic. Be warned, there might be numerous high school-ified versions of actual events in transformers canon if people want this to continue. I'm really not sure which universe to follow. DAMN YOU HASBRO FOR MAKING SO MANY ALTERNATE UNIVERSES. I like the movies best, but they're basically just KILL ALL THE CHARACTERS. *shrugs* Again, my main problem writing this is which plot to follow. I'm doing my research, but there's just so many versions, G1, animated, Transformers prime, movies, etc.**

**And yes, my headcanon is that Megatron is actually pretty great at cooking. What? He needs another skill besides combat.**

**If you want to see their humanized designs, I have uploaded a picture of them on my Deviantart. I didn't digital edit it because my coloring is terrible, so I'm sorry that the quality is crappy. I use the same username on my for deviantart.**


	2. Of Snickers and Scholarships

**HEY GUYS! I'm back with another chapter! Even though I only got one review, I'm thankful for any reviews I happen to get! As to a wonderful guest who reviewed, Freya, I'm going to answer her questions here. Yes, our dear Megs is a better cook than Optimus, cause he can't just have ONLY combat skills :D. He learned how to cook while working in his Military school's mess hall. Are Sam or any other humans showing up? It depends, but the plot problem is mainly the issue. I'm not sure if I like the movie plot, because, again, it's mainly 'kill all the characters' with Michael Bay. But since Sam is such a beloved character, it is most likely he will appear in the story later. A note, the first part happens during the same time as the first chapter, as the characters are waking up.**

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

The ceiling.

That was the first thing Shockwave saw when he woke up. He touched his eye, the one was blind, tentatively. The eye itself was a memory, one he did not wish to remember. He blinked, his eyes adjusting rapidly to the dark environment, able to make out the room's lay out.

One often wondered how in the world he could see so well in such dark spaces, especially since he had one eye. Practice makes perfect, he thought as he climbed out of his bed and neatly folded the sheets. He went through several exercises to gain his infamous vision, and wore sunglasses for an entire year. He smirked. He could name many people who had admitted they were envious of his ability. How would they like going through that?

Peace and quiet. Rare moments they were, considering he lived in the school's dorms, famous for the chaos ravaging through. That was one of the several reasons he got up considerably earlier than his classmates. A shadow if a smile graced his expression as he walked over to the lamp to flick it on. Every second was intended to be savored.

_"Just shoot for the stars if it feels right, and aim for my heart if you feel like,"_

_"Can take me away and make it okay, I swear, I'll behave."_

Shockwave grimaced at his slumbering roommate, Soundwave, who surprisingly, was sleeping with his headphones on while the song played at top volume. He scowled at him. Didn't he know that one could lose their hearing by listening to garbage like that? Logic, so unfortunately ignored these days.

He snatched the headphones away, which actually woke up the scruffy teen. Soundwave gave him an especially dirty look as he got up and quickly yanked back his headphones. He put them back on and fell back into his bed without further comment.

Shockwave rolled his eyes. He had gotten used to his roommate's apparent muteness, at least, eighty-six percent used to it. It was infuriating, frustrating him always. He glanced to his other roommates, not that they were any better.

Roommate number two, Frenzy, whose right leg and arm were hanging out of his upper bunk bed. A string of drool hung off the edge of his mouth, much to Shockwave's disgust. All four of his limbs were twitching at random times, and his mouth sometimes formed indecipherable gibberish. He glared at him in repulse. 'What a revolting creature.' He muttered under his breath.

Roommate number three, Starscream. The guy had an ego the size of Texas. Nearly seventy percent of their closet was filled with his designer junk. Hell, he even had a silk sleep mask on.

Shockwave made a mild face as he picked up another high-heeled boot on his work desk. He shuddered as he threw back behind him. He'll never be able to understand his roommate's taste in clothing.

"HEY! Watch the boot! This was personally designed by Kevin Sharlin!" Starscream glowered at him as he pulled off his mask. "I paid two hundred and fifty for this!"

"...mrgggghhhh... Huh? You guys are awake already?" Frenzy yawned, wiping off the drool on his face. "Guess it means I'm calling dibs on the last pop tart!"

Shit.

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

First period in Mr. Brakes's 10th grade Physics class. Their teacher was late, no surprise, probably back in the teachers' lounge watching some cheesy Spanish soap opera.

The class was in chaos, Decepticons swearing and dumping paper balls on Autobots, Autobots swearing back at them and throwing pencils at them.

And in the middle of it all, Prowl was trying to file his notes, but unfortunately was unable to. Why? Besides sitting in the middle of the class, where most of the crossfire was, there was his 'best buddy' Jazz who was yammering on and on about something doing with Nutella and living rooms, and another random Decepticon was flicking erasers at his head.

"...and then all the Nutella was all over the place and my uncle came back and he was SUPER furious at the whole entire mess and then he made me and Blurr clean up the ENTIRE room and-" Jazz paused to look at Prowl, whose face was slumped onto his desk. "Uh, are you okay man?"

Prowl's eyes flew open. "No, for your information, I am not okay." He yanked his head up to glare at Jazz. "I am trying to take notes right now so I can study for our test next week, but everybody and you are louder than a hundred yowling cats!" He slammed his head back down.

"Geez." Jazz remarked as he pushed his chair back. "The test is just a week away, and how do you know what a hundred yowling cats sound like?" Another look from Prowl silenced him.

They sat in stillness as the Decepticon behind them kept on flicking more erasers and the discord continued.

"Well, what do you suggest doing to quiet the class?" Prowl muttered, obviously a bit moody. "These rogue teens are impossible!"

"You are a TEEN." Jazz replied, before pondering over for a solution for a while, but a devilish grin spread over his face a moment later. "There is THAT."

Prowl's face paled seven shades whiter. And for a person who was already naturally pale, that was no easy feat. "Oh no. Not that. Anything but that."

"Yes. Yes, yes." Jazz's wicked smile grew wider. "It's the only way. Only way!" He voice was nearing to an excited squeak now.

Prowl turned his head away and folded his arms. "No. My dad gave it to me for emergencies and this, by far, is not an emergency."

Jazz pouted, and he slouched over. "Come on! You're no fun! You said you wanted to not fail the test and drop out of high school, and that is, according to me, an emergency."

Prowl rolled his eyes as he looked to his friend. "I'm serious, my dad trusted me to only use it in case I was getting molested or something like that and-"

Before Prowl's mind could process through, Jazz quickly reached into his backpack and whipped out a blow horn. "Ah ha!" He smiled triumphantly.

"JAZZ!" Prowl hissed loudly as he attempted to grab the blow horn back, but missed as Jazz darted to the front, unnoticed. He gave a thumbs up to Prowl as he stood up, before yelling into the blow horn.

"HEY EVERYBODY!" The entire class shook as the loud noises pounded at their eardrums. More than a few people gave Jazz an evil eye as they rubbed at their ears.

"Good." Jazz grinned, victorious. "Now, Mr. Brakes will probably be back in about twenty minutes after watching 'Mi Amor por Carmen', and some people are trying to study here-"

"You? Study? Fat chance!" The Decepticon who had been flicking erasers, Scorponok, cackled. The Decepticons chortled loudly at his joke, and even a few Autobots snickered. Jazz sighed out of irritation before pulling out his I-phone. "By some people, I mean Prowl. And other brainiacs like him." He pressed the on button and flicked it to youtube. "If you guys don't listen to me, guess it means I'm playing Justin Beiber's 'Baby' on repeat."

The entire classroom stilled, with a few people losing color in their faces. Scorponok exhaled out of defeat and muttered quietly, "Fine."

Jazz beamed in over his victory and went back to his seat next to Prowl. The class became hushed, with a few whispers here and there.

The door slammed open and Mr. Brakes walked in, looking panicked. "Is everything fine?! I thought I heard something dreadfully loud."

The whole class shook their heads, save for Scorponok, who was about to open his mouth. But a lift of an IPhone by Jazz was more than enough to make him close it and shake his head as well.

Jazz sat back, content, and handed Prowl his blow horn back with satisfied smile. He turned his IPhone to Macklemore's Thrift Shop and plugged his ear phones back in.

Prowl rolled his eyes as he turned back to Mr. Brakes's lecture about particles and what not. Often, he wondered if Jazz's days on the street left okay in the mind.

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

Second period in Mrs. Engine's 11th grade Literature class. Astrotrain chewed slowly on a snickers bar, looking remorsefully at Blitzwing (Or, what he was calling himself right now, Hothead) laughing as he tripped an unsuspecting Autobot.

It was like that everyday. Watch them have all the fun and come up with a good excuse when the teacher happened to catch them. Sure, he could always just push Autobots down by himself, but that was only half the fun when you could do it with more than one person. Unfortunately, he was considered nothing but a lowly servant with a sweet ride, so that was out of the question. He closed his eyes, and imagined himself as the leader, the enormous power almost flowing from him. He chuckled at his little fantasy; it wasn't like that he was going to become the next Starscream.

"Alright everyone. Settle down." Mrs. Engine sat up in her plush chair and clacked her gavel. (Most people joked that it was because she bore striking resemblance to a crotchety old judge. Astrotrain had to agree with them here.) "Turn to pages 125 and complete problems 1-32." She adjusted her glasses. "Oh, please do forgive me. We have a new foreign transfer student from Japan joining us here. Please welcome Drift."

Th door opened and a serious looking boy was a shock of white hair entered. He bowed and flatly said, "Greetings and hello. I am Drift Hashimoto. I am pleased to be making your acquaintance."

Mrs. Engine nodded, obviously impressed. "You may take your seat next to Blitzwing, Drift."

"Hothead- I mean, Icy!" Blitzwing called out, plainly switching personalities as he spoke.

Mrs. Engine rolled her eyes as she handed Drift a textbook. "Ask 'Icy' if you need anything."

Drift gave a nod to show his understanding and walked over to his seat.

Astrostrain finished off the last of his Snickers and opened his book to his page, but not before his desk mate, Rumble poked at Drift's back.

"Hey, Jappy." the scrappy teen roughly whispered. Drift turned his head to him with a concerned look, and whispered back. "Yes?"

"Why's your hair white?" He pointed his red pen to Drift's hair do. "I mean, you're Japanese. Aren't Japanese people supposed to, like, have black hair, cause their, like, Asian?"

"Rumble!" Astrotrain gave him a disapproving look. "You don't just ask people that!"

Rumble gave him a shrug of indifference. "What can I say? I'm curious."

"Rumble? Is there something you would like to say to the class?" Mrs. Engine put her hands on her hips with a frown.

Rumble gave her a glance of apathy and replied, "No. That's why I'm whispering it."

A few people in the back mouthed, 'Ooooooohhhhhh!' and 'Burn!' while Mrs. Engine narrowed her eyes. "Bring me your detention slip, Rumble."

As Rumble strolled up to the front with a smug smile, Drift whispered to Astrotrain, "Does this happen often here?"

Astrotrain gave Rumble another glance and answered, "Yeah. It happens a lot. You will get used to it. Eventually."

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

Third period in Ms. Flaps's 10th grade Advanced Chemistry class. She had the reputation around school of being the most boring and most dull teacher in the entire school, maybe even state. But 'sass' her, as she called it, and she will bury you alive in detention slips and lunch sit outs. She claims that that was her way with dealing over excited freshmen.

"Ugh, I'm dying... Help me, Wheelie!" Brains made an over exaggerated dying sound as he pretended to claw at his desk.

The said Wheelie made a miffed look at his fellow pupil as he scribbled undecipherable recordings of their experiment in their notepad.

"It's not even that bad, and focus on our projects, will you?" Wheelie poured another brightly colored chemical into the mix and turned up the Bunsen burner. "This counts for seventy five percent of our grade."

Brains stared at him with exasperation as he picked himself back up. "You're aware that both of us are considered to be the smartest people in the school, and you already have Princeton promising you a scholarship when you're done with high school."

"I want Princeton to keep that scholarship in my hands, and if you want Yale to offer you a scholarship, you might as well get off your lazy ass." Wheelie remarked as he noted down another color change in their experiment.

Brains folded his hands over his chest and snapped, "Oh, you want me to get off my lazy ass? How about this?"

He quickly grabbed several test tubes and dumped them all in their main beaker, much to Wheelie's horror. He then turned up the Bunsen burner to max. He stood back and hit on his recorder. He noted, "Our test, with carbon and sulfur added together, seems to be bubbling rapidly now. From past experience, it should explode-"

"POOM!"

"...now."

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

**I'm sorry with starting every time with whatever period in so and so's class in grade what, but I honestly have no idea how else to start. *shot* **

**So, instead of having the Blitzwing Triplets, I just have one Blitzwing with multiple personality disorder. Personally, that makes more sense to me. I prefer G1 Prowl but I will add in some of Transformers Animated Prowl's personality in him. Some more notes- ****Brains and Wheelie are both in advanced classes. They both are in Decepticons side since the movie shows that**** both of them haven't switched over yet. And yes, I know, they weren't friends before, but shhhhhhh. Let's imagine they were. ****I think of Brains a bit lazy and impulsive because he's used to his rich family's servants waiting on him on hand and knee. Wheelie is just trying to get him used to what normal people do. I've decided there's probably not going to be any ships here, but the female bots will be here. And tons of people will poke at the rumors surrounding them and the male bots. ****And yes, Soundwave is listening Maroon 5's Moves like Jagger. XD Now that I have elaborated it bit more on the story, here's the list of characters in their known grade levels:**

**Freshmen- Bumblebee, Wasp, Cliffjumper.**

**Sophomores- Jazz, Prowl, Optimus, Wheelie, Brains.**

**Juniors- Soundwave, Shockwave, Stascream, Blitzwing, Rumble, Frenzy, Astrotrain.**

**Seniors- Megatron, Ratchet, Ironhide.**

**Whoa! Optimus is young! I know that indeed, but you have no idea how many fics that say Optimus acts older than he is. And that is how I came to put him with the Sophomores. Anyway, more things to clear things up. Bumblebee is the youngest in school because he skipped eighth grade. Optimus knew him before he came to Transformers because his guardian ****is friends with Bumblebee's relative and was in fact, the one who suggested Bumblebee go to Transformers Academy. **

**FUN FACT- Rumble has a lip piercing and Frenzy has a tongue piercing. It wouldn't be a fun fact if this was a comic but since it's not, enjoy! **


	3. Teenage House Party

**Greetings again everyone! I want to thank everyone who has devoted their time to reading and reviewing this story! And now to talk to my dear guest reviewer Freya. I'm sorry that you found last chapter boring, either I was lazy, didn't stare my ideas across enough, or all of the above. *shot* Anyway, there's probably a reason why you found this boring. I'm preparing to take off on the first movie's plot. SHOCK! I found a plot to stick to?! Yes, yes I did. I'm going to use the first movie plot, but after that, probably add some good ol generation one. Note- Jazz will not die like in the movie (Damn you Michael Bay!). Another note- I don't write accents because it makes it hard as hell to read whatever the heck they're saying. If you're reading this, you should be obsessed with Transformers enough to be hearing their voices all the time. If any one's wondering, this takes place about one month after the first month of school.**

******PS- Mimzy's OC Moonrider makes a cameo in this chapter!**

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

"Damn it!" Scorponok pounded his fist down on the table. "The bastard!"

Blackout rolled his eyes as his lunch tray shook as the dirty blonde hammered away at the table. "You know, you're not going to get Jazz back by trying to destroy our table. "

Scorponok flashed him a sour glance. "Yes, but it helps my anger at Jazz by pretending it is Jazz!" With that, he struck the table again.

At least half of the people at their table turned to glare at Scorponok and Blackout.

"Geez, can't you guys be still for more than a minute?" Starscream sniffed haughtily. Scalpel nodded in agreement from behind his enormous glasses. He adjusted them a bit before speaking. "I'm working on a guide for my blogspot followers on how to write well over here."

"Here's a tip." Sideways said as he butted in. "If your cast of characters includes a tribe that sacrifices people, make sure that they have blood tests for the offerings to make sure that they don't sacrifice any HIV positive people."

"Hahaha." Scalpel rolled his eyes. "I'm serious."

"I can tell. That's why I said it." Sideways replied nonchalantly as he bit off a chunk of his cookie.

Turning away from the conversation, Blackout faced Scorponok again. "There are better ways to get revenge rather then attempting to snap the table in half." He picked up the school's inedible lasagna with an evil smile. "Like this."

With that, he tossed the well aimed lasagna to Jazz's head.

"HEY! Who the hell threw that?!" He angrily wiped off the over processed cheese out of his dark mess of hair and gingerly picked up his tuna sandwich to throw it back in the direction of the lasagna. It was only because of a cruel twist of fate that it ended up on Blitzwing while he was in his Hothead personality.

"You'll regret throwing that me!" He roared, flinging his entire lunch tray at the Autobot side.

And then all hell broke loose.

Milk cartons flew, letting calcium high substances rain over, and vegetables that no one had uses for until now went splat on all grades. Desserts unfortunately not eaten danced through the air, and fruit slices sailed through the lunchroom's skies.

In the confusion, some people decided it was the perfect time to make a move.

"MEGATRON!" Knockout excitedly yelped as he glomped him.

"GET OFF OF ME, YOU FOOL!"

"NEVER! YOU CAN'T STAND IN THE WAY OF TRUE LOVE!"

"THIS ISN'T TRUE LOVE, YOU IMBECILE! GET OFF!"

Blackout was having so much fun chucking food, he quickly grabbed some poor fellow's yogurt and hurled on Starscream.

"HEY! I'm still second in command!" He screeched as he tossed some raspberry pudding back at him.

"In the Great Campus War, yes, but in the Great Food Fling?" Blackout taunted. "I think not!" He bombarded the former second in command with an open juice box someone had left.

"That makes no sense!" Starscream angrily grabbed a bowl of chili and chased after him.

Across the lunchroom, under some greasy lunch tables, Ratchet was complaining, Ironhide was pummeling anyone who dared to pelt him with any kind of food item, and Gears was listening to some heavy metal band while griping about the bitterness of life. Not exacly what one would call extraordinary. A few people under were trying to hold their own, but failing as they realized the lack of ammo.

Next to it, Wasp was crazily hurling food that people had over looked (occasionally 'accidentally' dumping a salad on Bumblebee), and Bee was just trying to avoid Wasp's salad dumps while attempting to peg Barriacade with some potatoes randomly lying around. He suspected Blitzwing was probably in his Random personality if potatoes were lying around.

"AHAHAHAHA! WATCH ME EXPRESS MY FEELINGS IN A THROW!"

Yep.

Back at the Decepticon side of the lunchroom, Lugnut cackled as he pegged another Autobot. "Oh Lord Megatron, these puny Autobots are not worthy to breathe your air!"

Megatron dismissively waved the flattery off as he looked over Knockout's momentarily unconscious body. "What you say may be true Lugnut. Soundwave, how exactly is our front holding up?"

Soundwave, who was hiding under a makeshift fort he created from cafeteria chairs, held up his iPad, the text on the Notepad app, proclaiming that Autobots appeared to be suffering from a loss of ammo.

"Wonderful." He silkily purred. He picked up a raisin cookie and was about to send it flying towards Optimus, but not before someone nailed him in the head with a blue and red cupcake.

"DAMN YOU OPTIMUS!"

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

"Ugh. It will take me forever to clean out all of this food in my gorgeous hair." Sunstreaker dramatically swept his filthy hair as he walked down the hallway with his twin brother Sideswipe.

Sideswipe's eyes looked to the ceiling, irked at his brother's over exaggerated dilemma before frowning down at the chunks of unidentifiable food on his jacket from his brother's hair sweep. "It's not going help both of us by making my jacket look like your 'gorgeous' hair."

Sunstreaker shrugged. "Your jacket already is the color as my hair, so what difference that make?"

Sideswipe gave his brother a questioning glance and turned away. "You have a point there. Anyway, it's probably good thing mom and dad are away for the month, our ears would be sore like hell after they're done with us!"

Sunstreaker grinned. "Be glad Ratchet didn't know we were the ones who tossed that fish on him!"

Both brothers chuckled at this, before an ominous looking shadow dropped on them.

"He's right behind us, right?" Sideswipe asked his brother with a knowing face.

"Yeah, I'm ninety percent sure. Total cliche moment."

And both brothers ran like hell from a very vexed Ratchet, who was waving around a very sharp looking buzz-saw.

_Twenty minutes later..._

"Oh my god, Jazz, thank you for saving our lives." Sunstreaker panted as he stood against Jazz's dorm door. "Ratchet would have slaughtered us with that buzz saw."

Jazz snorted. "Ha, I've had that buzz saw up close in my face. Defining moment of my life." He grimaced as the smell of something rotting wafted off Sunstreaker. "However, you could return the favor by showering and washing your clothes."

"I would love to, but my idiot brother is hogging your shower." He pouted. "Doesn't he know about the exemplary care i have to give to myself in order to maintan my amazing exterior?"

"Has heever asked what your interior looks like?" Jazz teased.

Sunstreaker's eyes widened as he realized this. Jazz snickered and let it eventually grow into a laugh that sent him flying onto his back. Sunstreaker gave a small smile as he looked over him.

"We are so lucky that our parents aren't home." Sunstreaker remarked as he wiped off a stray spaghetti strand lying on his shoulder. "They would kill us if they knew we fought in a food fight."

"Wait." Jazz sat back up faster than what Sunstreaker previously thought was possible. "Your parents are out of town?"

Sunstreaker nodded, before gaining an expression of horror. "Oh no. I hope that is not what you're thinking. Not another cliche."

"Yes! Yes!" Jazz was practically hopping like a five year old on a sugar buzz by this point. "TEENAGE HOUSE PARTY!"

"No way." Sunstreaker crossed his arms. "I wouldn't have a problem with this if it weren't so cliche and my parents were around to monitor it-"

Jazz cut him off. "You know, things are cliche because they WORK, and everybody knows 'rents are a drag on parties. Besides, it's ten times more fun to do it in secret!"

"No, dude." Sunstreaker shook his head firmly. "My parents trusted us to be responsible and-"

"Did somebody mention 'Teenage House Party'?" Sideswipe opened the bathroom door, with steam pouring out behind him. He had a broad grin on his face as he strolled to them.

Jazz squealed. "Sideswipe! You have come to aid me in the task of convincing Sideswipe to throw the most awesome party of the year!" Sunstreaker, however, was less enthused.

"Were you listening to us this whole time?" He questioned his twin, increduous.

"I really wasn't until I heard Jazz yell Teenage House Party. And to answer Jazz's question, I have come to help him!" He posed himself in a heroic sort of way, before turning to Sunstreaker to use peer pressure. "Come on bro. It will be awesome. We'll invite some chicks from that all girls school across from town and bring in, like, a mini buffet there!"

Jazz nodded eagerly in agreement. "Yeah, and I can be the DJ!"

Sunstreaker looked sardonically at Jazz. "You can DJ?"

"Like hell I can!" Jazz replied, looking a bit offended. "I work as a DJ on the weekends!"

"Mom and Dad will never know bro!" Sideswipe was making Puppy eyes by this point and Jazz followed suit.

Damn, they could make one hell of a Puppy Eye look.

"Ugh... fine." Sunstreakerthrew his hands up in the air as Jazz and Sunstreaker gave each other high fives. "But if anybody ends up injured or dead, we are never hosting a party again!"

"YES!" Jazz whooped along with Sidewipe. "I am so making a Facebook event page for this!"

"Dude, we totally have to have Mountain Dew-" Sideswipe began.

"And Lays chips!" Jazz added.

"No alcohol!" Sunstreaker chided them.

"Like that will stop anyone."

"We should ship in Columbian cocaine! And some Lebanese hashish!"

"Ooh! And strippers!"

"We are not shipping Columbian cocaine or Lebanese hashish nor are we sending strippers!"

"Aw, you're no fun, bro."

"Urgh, I need a shower."

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

-Beep-

Blurr looked quickly down at his phone. Facebook alert from Jazz. Party at the Lambo Twins's Friday night? Why not, he had nothing planned.

Another alert from Jazz. They needed ideas and supplies.

At the speed of sound, Blurr quickly jotted off to Jazz that they should consider having a dance game, beer fountain, laser pogos, Guitar hero, keg, no Taylor Swift playing, maybe a few babes.

Okay, maybe not the beer fountain. But send.

Blurr shut off his phone and shoved it in his bag. Track tryouts wasn't going to wait for anyone, let alone the single best track runner this school had. (What Cheetor claimed was not going to stop someone like him)

"Hey..."

Blurr turned to the voice. The Decepticon Jetfire was looking at him rather suspiciously.

"What is it that you want, Jetfire?" He said, exasperated. "I need to run to Track tryouts and I probably will have to sprint if anymore distractions keeps me down." Even if Jetfire was considerably nicer than his fellow Decepticons, he really needed to get going.

"Well, um." Jetfire was _really _uncomfortable talking to his side's enemies, unfortunately.

"For goodness' sake Jetfire! There is no need to act like a quivering chihuahua! Spit out and say it like it's nothing!" Blurr yelled, agitated. Jesus, only five minutes left!

Jetfire turned red. "I'm sorry! It's just I wanted to ask you... Is that a party event page you were looking at?"

Blurr glanced at him with mild disgust. "Were you reading behind my back?!"

"No!" Jetfire said defensively.

Blurr looked at him again.

"...maybe."

Blurr rolled his eyes as he slung his gym bag over his shoulder. "To answer your question, yes, there going to be a party at the Lambo Twins' Friday Night and at least twenty people are attending, judging from what I saw last in the Facebook event page." He pulled out his phone for a spilt second before putting it back. "No wait, forty. Now goodbye!" He rushed out of the changing room, leaving only a blur (pun intended) in his trail.

Jetfire exhaled out of relief, but not before a rather devious looking Frenzy grinned at him as he poked his head out of a cubicle. "Autobot party? This should be interesting..."

Jetfire's face whitened. "Oh no..."

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

"So what have you planned?" Prowl asked as Jazz on their bus ride back home.

"Tons of stuff!" Jazz sat excitedly up. "We're buying tons of junk food, a photo booth, and a keg! I'm playing DJ and we'll be buying rainbow colored lasers! We were also going to ship in some Columbian cocaine and some Lebanese hashish and send in some strippers, but Sideswipe stopped us from doing that."

"Probably a good thing he did..." Prowl muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Turning away, Jazz was eagerly texting to his six million other friends on Facebook. "So, we already have sixty people attending, and as far as I'm concerned, all the hard partiers are among them."

"And those are?" Prowl skeptically inquired.

"Me, Wreck-Gar, Blaster, Cheetor, and etc, etc, etc."

Prowl put his head into his hands. "If anything, you guys will only make the situation at hand worse."

Jazz waved his hand. "It's not like we're going to play with nuclear waste, what's the worst that could happen?"

Prowl held up his hand to count. "One, the police catch you guys bringing in the alcohol. Two, they get called in for noise disturbance. Three, the party ends up trashing the twins' entire house. Four, alcohol poisoning. Five, drunk drivers. Six, molestation. Seven-"

"Hey, hey, don't you think you're being a bit unrealistic?!" Jazz protested. One withering stare from Prowl was more than enough to get him shut his complaints.

"Ah, who the hell am I kidding! You always find some way to logic things into being reasonable." Jazz frowned.

"Logic is not a verb." He pointed out. "How are you going DJ, if you can't even stay sober during a party?"

"Easy." Jazz declared with ease. "You'll be there to watch my drink consumption!"

It took 0.6 seconds for Prowl to start choking on the smarties he was eating and about a minute to get him to stop hacking on the candy.

"Whatever makes you think that I will go to this crazy bash of yours?" He breathily retorted, still recovering from the minor near death experience he had.

Jazz innocently batted his eyelashes. "Well, you are my best friend, you obviously need to get out more, you have an alcohol tolerance of the gods, and you do have that blow horn-"

"That you unfairly snatched from my pack." He spat bitterly.

Jazz sighed before pulling out his secret weapon. "I'll buy donuts."

At the mere mention of donuts, Prowl whipped his head up, plainly in high alert. "You have donuts?!"

Jazz seductively licked his lips. "I'll buy you some donuts if you promise to come."

Poor Prowl looked torn between logic and his never ending desire for fried dough. "We'll... We'll see."

"Aww, Prowlie, don't be so dull." Jazz teased him in tone that could have been considered fairly sensuous. "They'll be chocolate... sugar powdered... Sprinkles."

Prowl was practically tearing out his hair by now. "Urg... Fine!"

"Yay!" Jazz cheered. Two arguments won in a day! He was on a roll. "I'll buy you the donuts after the party."

"What?!" Prowl snapped back up.

Jazz wagged his finger demeaningly. "Got to make sure you don't bail on me while having your donuts!"

"...I hate you."

"Aww, I hate you too!"

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

"Autobot Party?"

Megatron raised his eyebrow at the proposition Frenzy had just made. _'An Autobot Party? We do have our Decepticon celebrations... Usually ending with five wasted drunks...' _

Frenzy popped up from his Candy Crush play. "I'm just saying boss, it'll be awesome chance to go crash them dumb ass Autobots' bash!"

"Hmmm... I do need to get back at Optimus for throwing that cupcake at me..."

"What?"

"It's none of your concern."

_Back at Ironhide's house..._

Optimus blinked. "I feel like I was just mentioned by someone."

Ironhide looked at him like he had just sprouted five heads. "You can't feel that you were mentioned by someone!"

Ironhide's hyper twelve year old cousin, who was visiting, nodded energetically in agreement. "Besides, Miley Cyrus's VMA performance coming on in a second. Ooh! Here it is!"

...

...

...

"Umm, Ironhide? Why is she stripped to her underwear?"

"I'm not sure..."

"Oh Ironhead!" his little cousin rolled her eyes. "You guys act like grandpas. It gets even better, wait til she get that foam finger out and starts rubbing it all over her- Hey! It's here!"

...

...

...

"I don't think I'm going to recover from this."

_Back to the field behind the school, where a few Decepticons were meeting..._

"If I may interrupt oh glorious and amazing Megatron-"

"Stop with the bootlicking Sunstorm. I get enough of that from Lugnut."

"Oh, but could I ever match up to him, magnificent as he is. Back to my original point, like the ingenious Frenzy has said before-"

"Thank you." the said Frenzy beamed.

"It would be an propitious and extremely auspicious opportunity to sabotage the Autobots so we Decepticon can have our moment of most victorious glory. Perhaps flubbing a few of their automobiles would also be approved by me."

"In simpler words," Starscream noted, preparing to translate. "It would be a great time to mess up the Autobots' cars."

"Thank you for the translation, Starscream." He said half heartedly. "You Decepticons can choose to drink your asses off, but I think Sunstorm's suggestion may hold some promise and amusement for us."

Sunstorm bowed. "I am humbled deeply by your most heartfelt compliments-"

"Shut it."

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

"Hey guys. Have you heard about that new party at Lambo twins'?"

Elita swiveled in her chair to look at her sister, Arcee. "Really? Wouldn't it be all boys?"

Chromia, her other sister, pffted. "Pfff, you know how the horny boys are. They have to invite at least a dozen hot girls to bang or at least ogle."

Elita thought about the hungry lustful looks the hormone filled boys gave her when she was at the beach, or anywhere that involved her in something that showed a considerable amount of skin. She nodded knowingly to Arcee.

"Should we go? I mean, it's not like we're going to get raped..." Arcee noted thoughtfully.

Chromia snorted, satirical. "Those motherfuckers better hope for their lucky stars that they'll be able to walk straight after trying the moves on me."

Elita snickered. "You would kick them in the crotch before they even put a hand on you."

"And then you would punch them in stomach." Arcee chuckled as she joined in.

Chromia waved her hand like she was some five star celebrity. "Already done it sister. Some guy at the pool was hitting on me and he was making a hand to the no touch zone."

"I feel bad for any guy that would dare lay a hand on you." Arcee remarked. "Speaking of guys, I'm looking at the guest list right here, _Optimus_ is on it, Elita."

"Oooh, que the cheesy love song!" Chromia joked.

"How about Taylor Swift's 'Love Story'?"

"Ugh, Taylor Swift. I like it!"

Elita rolled her eyes. "Guys, just because he and I are friends doesn't mean we're making out in the patio garden or anything."

"Admit it, the thought _did_ cross your mind more than once." Arcee chimed, her lips threatening to break into a wide grin.

"Ugh. Having sisters is so frustrating." Elita placed her head down on her desk. "Getting back to the orginal point, are we going to this party or not?"

"Well duh!" Arcee slid down from her upper bunk bed. "It's been clinically proven in my mind that Elita need to get out more and Chromia needs to find more guys that she will not kick in the balls. Who would want to miss the chance to do all that?"

"I get out enough!" Elita defensively asserted. "And doesn't Chromia hang out with that Ironhead guy?"

"It's Ironhide!" Chromia corrected her with a glare.

"Elita, you are way off in that sentence you just said." Arcee held up her hand, her other one on her hip. "One, you only get out when I bribe you with study passes I got from Mrs. Chasel. Two, I clearly said _guys_. Ironhide is one guy."

Chromia slumped her face into her pillow. "Sometimes, I hate you. A lot."

"I get that a lot, especially from you." She coolly responded. "Besides, nearly half the girls in our school are coming."

"Oh really?" Elita rebutted, her tone laced with something caustic. "Name twenty, besides you."

"Well..." Arcee's expression was looking significantly more impish now. "There's Moonracer, Crasher, Windblade, Greenlight, Lancer, Firestar, Beta, Rosanna, Clio, Minerva, Clipper, Glyph, Karmen, Road Rage, Discharge, Vibes, Windy, Roulette, Flare up, Flip Sides, Moonrider-"

"Okay, okay, shut up." Chromia threw her hands up.

"-wait, is Moonrider actually coming or not? I think I better check in-"

"I said shut up."

"Either way, we are going to the party!"

This only elated a round of groans from her sisters. She put her hand up solidly. "No complaints, no buts. None at all boring ass sisters!"

Chromia then proceeded to slam her forehead against the wall.

"Mind if I join you in the head slamming?" Elita asked, tired visibly written over her face.

"No."

-—-()-—-()-—-()-—-

**CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE**

******A/N- Damn, there's a lot of eye rolling here. ********Ahahaha... Jazz is such a dick... Anyway, this chapter is actually a lot longer than the others. Over 4500! And as for that last tidbit, it really isn't a Optimus Elita moment, it can be nosy sisters, an actual Optimus Elita moment, anything. I like giving my readers some freedom in this, it's really up to you. All the females that Arcee just named before are actual Transformers. (not including Moonrider) Turns out we actually have a lot more females than we thought, eh? And this is a special I wanted to make to all you lovelies out there. I am accepting OCs, HOWEVER. There are rules.**

******-No human OCs. That is final, and I won't be making any exceptions.**

******-No ships. Therefore, if your character has a Sparkmate that is canon, they won't be in a relationship.**

******-They will not be a major character. The most your character will be is a minor character, the least, a background character.**

******-Adjustment. PM if you want your OC to show up, and I will take a look at their profile. I will then provide you a high school profile of them for your approval. If I feel some things in your OC are A-unnecessary, B- Mary Sue-ish, C- unreasonable, or D- All of the above, I will ask for permission to cut it out. (Psst, Mimzy, the only quality that your oc that fits into here is her resemblance to Optimus. Don't worry, it's the only one)**

**Notes- If anybody has qualms about Knockout acting like a perv, he really doesn't harbor any real feelings for Megatron, he just does it to annoy him. Starscream probably seems like a priss right now, but he can hold his own in a fight and is actually very ferocious. If you're wondering what the twins are wearing since they showered at Jazz's and they live at their own house, Jazz just let them borrow some old T-shirts and sweat pants. Jetfire, is generation one version, but his younger self is the animated version. He has mellowed down from his younger self's excited ness but there are some orange streaks in his now white hair that he has left to remind himself of his younger self's impulsiveness. And ****Lol, Jetfire's just a little socially awkward boy with the Autobots. If you're wondering why I didn't make him movie verse, I'm not trying to offend anybody but I really don't like it. The original cast existed a quite a bit before the war and they don't have a canes. And they're fucking robots, they can replace their body parts with new ones! ****I'm sorry if I didn't make Blurr talk enough, it's fairly hard for me write his long ramblings... Anywho, I think of Elita as a serious person who people call a workaholic. She can be very charismatic, but she find it rare that she should ever need to use it. Arcee isn't peppy, she's just more social than her sisters.**

**Fun Fact- Jetfire has Foreign Accent syndrome. Due to being in a coma when he was younger, he came out of it having an American accent, despite growing up in Russia. He can imitate an Australian accent and a Yorkshire accent. ****(This comes from the fact in the cartoons, he always seems to have some sort accent.)**

**Here's another Fun Fact to make up for the lack of one in the first Chapter. Boy, I'm just spoiling you guys. Prowl has a high tolerance for drugs and alcohol because he actually was a very sickly child when he was young. They had to give him lots of medication and over time, he has built a strong tolerance for it. Since alcohol _is_ a drug, he can hold ****his liquor quite well.**

**Holy shit pants this is one long ass Author's note. So why not make it even longer?**

**IMPORTANT QUESTIONS-**

**How will Sunstreaker plan the party? Will he consider the cocaine, the hashish, or the strippers again like his brother and Jazz suggested? Or will he put his unique spin on it?**

**Will Prowl ever get his sprinkled, ****sugar-powdered,** chocolate donuts? (I could go for some myself)

**Will Jetfire ever gain any social skills around Autobots?**

**Is Elita actually thinking of making out in the patio garden with Optimus?**

**Will Chromia find another guy whom she won't kick in the balls?**

**Will Optimus ever recover from Miley Cyrus's VMA show? (I know I haven't)**


End file.
